


Chuck Versus the Dominatrix

by Regann



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-20
Updated: 2011-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-27 14:58:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regann/pseuds/Regann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chuck, Casey and Sarah go undercover at local fetish dungeon in search of someone selling government secrets. [set S1/S2]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chuck Versus the Dominatrix

It was just another normal day at the Buy More.

Chuck clocked in, ran a few virus scans, received profuse thanks for a traveling businessman when he resuscitated his dying notebook, ran interference between the guys and Big Mike -- then got manhandled by Casey off to the secret lair for a surprise meeting with General Beckman.

All in all, a typical day in the life of nerd-turned-reluctant-spy Chuck Bartowski.

And, as always, Casey wore the same angry clenched-jaw look which gave Chuck little indication of what Beckman wanted. The general, on the other hand, bore an irritated, pinched expression that did not bode well for the conversation ahead, and Chuck braced himself as he took a seat and greeted the screen.

"Have any of you ever heard of a local establishment called Oubliette?" she asked once they were all settled.

Chuck and Sarah exchanged blank looks, but Casey spoke up. "You mean the dungeon downtown?"

Beckman nodded. "That's exactly the one I mean."

"What about it?" Casey asked.

"Dungeon?" Chuck repeated dubiously, looking at Sarah for illumination. She just shrugged.

"Some very sensitive intelligence has shown up for sale on the black market in the last month," Beckman continued. "We traced two pieces back to high-level civilian contractors located in your area. The only source of overlap we could find between them is that they both admitted to visiting Oubliette within the past three months."

"You think their contact is there?"

"Major, both contractors were unaware of being compromised, and they both passed rigorous debriefings on the subject. What we believe is that someone connected with the establishment has found a way to extract information from these men without them knowing. We need to find out how this was done and if the persons responsible have any other information they can potentially sell. We've managed to control the damage thus far, but I don't know how long we can do that."

"How do you want us to proceed?" Sarah asked.

"I need the three of you to infiltrate Oubliette," Beckman answered. "And you need to be very careful. We don't want to tip our hand before we make sure he or she has nothing else that can leak out. Given the...nature...of this place, we can't be certain if anyone else with sensitive information has visited and been compromised as well."

Casey, Sarah and Beckman nitpicked over a few details that still didn't make any sense to Chuck, even after a year of eavesdropping on them, but he did make out that Beckman wanted him to go in to do his Intersect thing, which he had expected. Beckman finally ended the transmission after assuring Casey the entire case file was en route to him.

As Casey and Sarah still debated some particulars, Chuck cleared his throat. "Could someone just clarify the 'dungeon' description for me? Because I'm still kinda confused over here."

Casey shot him a smug look. "Come on, Bartowski, don't tell me you're that sheltered."

"What do you mean?"

"Chuck, Oubliette is a...um...." Sarah couldn't quite say whatever it was she needed, though Chuck did notice she was flushed.

Casey snorted, shaking his head. "You can just say it, Walker -- it's a kink club." Sarah got redder and Chuck choked on his shock as Casey continued. "It's where freaks get tied up, whipped, poked, and shocked to get off."

At first, Chuck was worried he hadn't heard right.

Then, he was worried he had.

Despite his hopes otherwise, Chuck had heard Casey correctly. Oubliette was a fetish dungeon, which specialized in all kinds of things Chuck didn't even want to know existed. Bondage, dominance, submission, and sadomasochism -- the ones he recognized -- were the tamest of the bunch as far as he could tell as he read through one of their advertisements online. They not only rented out the services -- meaning clients could pay for the use of a dominatrix -- but couples could hire a domme for group sessions, or just pay for use of a room. They even had "consultations" where one of the staff helped couples initiate their entrance into the BDSM world.

Chuck was not excited about this mission.

After shift, he, Casey and Sarah met again to hammer out their attack plan. One of them needed to go in undercover as an employee, and the other two needed to pose as a couple seeking "services."

"I don't think we can afford to go in as clients alone," Sarah said. "Since no one knows how they're extracting the information, any of us would be too vulnerable on our own."

"Especially Bartowski," Casey said in agreement. "The last thing we need is someone else gaining access to the Intersect."

Chuck shot him a look because Casey didn't actually sound all that concerned about him personally. He met the accusing look with amusement.

"Hey, I guess you better be ready to lick some boots there, Casey," Chuck said back, grinning at the thought of Casey having to pretend to work at the fetish club.

Sarah pinked up a little at that. "Actually...I'll have to be the one who goes in as an employee."

Casey's eyebrows rose. "Oh really?"

She nodded. "Mistress Odette, the owner, she only accepts female acolytes, uh, trainees. She doesn't hire men at all."

Casey rolled his eyes, then glared at Chuck. "Oh, great."

It took Chuck a minute longer to make the connection, but when he did... "You mean, me and Casey have to go in together? As a couple?" Beneath the squeak in his voice, he knew there was some horror, too.

"I'm not exactly thrilled about it either, but a job's a job," Casey told him. "Suck it up, kid."

"I'm not sure that's really the most appropriate thing to say, given the conversation," Chuck said icily.

Casey's lip curled into a nasty kind of smile. "You haven't had much luck with fake girlfriends. Maybe you'll do better as one."

Sarah's hand didn't quite muffle her amusement.

**

"No one is ever going to buy us as a couple," Chuck said a few hours later, as he and Casey were on their way to the Oubliette for a "consultation" with a dominatrix.

"Because _everyone_ buys you and Walker," Casey said, dryly.

"This is different," Chuck protested. "And it's never going to work."

"Why's that?" Casey asked, not taking his eyes off the road.

"Well, for one, you don't even like me," he said. "And we're supposed to be this kinky whatever? I don't think so."

"I don't know, Bartowski," Casey said. "I have the urge to smack you or gag you at least once a day. That might be enough."

Chuck settled back in his seat, noticing that Casey did not object to not liking him. Which was fine, he supposed. Casey didn't have to like him, but Chuck had thought that, after working together this long, Casey liked him a little -- enough to protest an accusation to the contrary, at least.

Before long, they had arrived at Oubliette, which was a pretty drab-looking place from the outside. The inside was a different matter, however, and they were escorted into a waiting room with black leather furniture and steel accent pieces, the walls a bold satiny red. The receptionist was pleasant as she asked them to fill out a questionnaire and handed them pens and clipboards; she even looked a little like a normal secretary...except her skirt suit was latex, and she had a Marilyn stud winking just above her vibrantly-colored mouth.

Chuck felt that he and Casey were even more underdressed when another woman greeted them and introduced herself as Lady Octavia, their consultant. While she wore something similarly 'business-like' to the receptionist, she had long hair dyed an alarming red not seen in nature, and a delicate web of ink-black tattoos spiraling up one arm. But her smile seemed genuine and her voice was warm, with a hint of an accent. Chuck found himself smiling back.

"Charles, John," she said, shaking first Chuck's hand, then Casey's. "It is a pleasure to meet you. Hopefully, after I've shown our facilities and told you a little about what we do here, we can discuss your situation and relationship, see if we'll make a good match. All right?"

Chuck was amused by how much Lady Octavia's spiel sounded like a counselor Ellie had one tried to get him to visit once after the Stanford debacle, worried that his depression had reached clinical depths. From the amused gleam he saw in Casey's eyes as they followed Lady Octavia farther into the dungeon, Chuck thought the agent noticed the same thing.

They toured several unoccupied "play" areas which made Chuck's eyes go wide. He couldn't imagine how anyone would want to use most of the equipment they'd seen, and he eyed a rack of paddles and whips with real apprehension.

Lady Octavia noticed. "A little much for you?" she asked, smiling.

Chuck was embarrassed that she'd caught his look; Casey had faced the tour so far as stoically as he did everything else. He had, in fact, been able to converse with Octavia rather knowledgably on much of what they'd seen. "I just...it's different."

"It's good that you're doing this for your partner," she said, patting his arm. "I'm sure he appreciates your willingness to even take this step."

Chuck looked across the room and saw Casey staring at a shelf lined with loops of brightly-colored rope. "Yeah, I'm sure."

Octavia smiled again, then raised her volume to include Casey in her next comment. "Are you familiar with shibari, John?"

He turned toward her, arms folded. "Vaguely. Japanese bondage, right?"

"Essentially." Octavia ran a finger over the piles of rope at which Casey had been staring. "I find it incredibly artistic as well as erotic, myself. Our ropes are all hand-made and hand-dyed, especially for us. Hemp. There's nothing like it in the world."

Before Octavia could say more, the door to the area creaked open and Chuck jumped. A young woman entered, bowing a little in deference as she spoke. "Lady Octavia, you have an important phone call. He says his name is Master Edo and that you will want to take his call."

Octavia nodded. "Please excuse me for a moment."

Once they were alone, Chuck looked around nervously. "So this is...really weird."

"Tell me about it," Casey said, looking over the shelves again.

"You seem to know a lot about this stuff," Chuck pointed out.

"You pick things up, here and there," Casey shrugged. "You never know what kind of off-the-wall info might save your ass one day."

Chuck nodded, although the explanation rang hollow for some reason. He tried to lighten the mood. "And here I just thought you were a closet freak, Casey."

Casey snorted. "Yeah, right."

"You saying you don't want Lady Octavia to tie you up and beat you with the bloodwood paddle?" Chuck asked.

"Not hardly, Bartowski."

"Why not? She's pretty hot if you're into ink."

"Not my type," Casey said, a growling edge to it. "And not my thing -- at all."

"Well, there must be something to it," Chuck said. "A lot of people are really into it."

"And I bet those people have never had any of this done to them against their will." Chuck jerked his head up to stare at Casey as he continued. "To some people, this might be a "play room," but to some of us? This is a torture chamber. And I don't really get off on torture, at least not my own."

Chuck didn't know what to say in the face of that; luckily, Octavia chose that moment to return and continue the tour. Although he kept remembering to thoroughly check every face they passed to see if it triggered something with the Intersect, he couldn't stop thinking about what Casey had said.

Despite everything he knew about Casey's career and the little he had experienced in his time working with Casey and Sarah, he hadn't much thought about it. Of course, it made sense that Casey had endured torture in the past, but...Chuck had never really contemplated what that actually meant. Given the tools surrounding them that people used for pleasure but still gave Chuck the creeps, the idea of what someone could wield as an instrument of torture made his stomach roil.

"Are there any questions you have for me?" Octavia asked once they had finished the tour and they were back at the reception area.

"Not at the moment," Casey answered for them. "We just wanted to get a look at the place."

Octavia nodded pleasantly. "If you have any questions or decide to schedule a date with us, just let me know. You have my numbers."

As soon as they were back outside, Casey let out a frustrated growl. "Well that was a bust," he said. "You didn't flash on anything?"

"No," Chuck admitted. "Sorry."

"Hopefully Walker had better luck than we did."

Sarah's report was mixed. Though she had managed to get chosen as one of the new "acolytes," she didn't have much intel to report. What she had learned was that there were eight working mistresses on site, along with two dozen acolytes who were in charge of everything from cleaning play rooms and equipment, to setting up scenes, to handling money. Anyone of them -- or even all of them -- could be connected to the espionage.

"What did you do? You know, while you were there?" Chuck wanted to know. Sarah ignored him.

"Bartowski didn't flash on anything," Casey said at the end of their meeting. "I guess the next step is surveillance. See if we can find out anything from that."

By the Chuck finally made it home to his much-loved bed, he was beyond tired but his brain wasn't ready to stop thinking, even though nothing he was thinking made much sense. He was thinking about Casey, about the case, about the dungeon, about Lady Octavia. He kept drifting back to the things he'd seen in Oubliette, wondering how people could be into any of the stuff he'd seen.

Chuck wondered if it was because his own sexual history was decidedly vanilla that it all seemed to strange to him. Sarah wasn't really batting an eyelash, and neither was Casey. Just another day in the spy business, it seemed.

After the crazy tangents his mind had been on all day, Chuck was glad he didn't remember any of his dreams.

**

Chuck woke up with a plan.

It wasn't necessarily a good plan, he had to admit, but he was going to try it. Like Casey and Sarah, he was frustrated by their lack of progress, but he felt it very acutely because he hadn't pulled his weight on the mission. He was flashy-info Intersect guy and so far he'd contributed zero; this did not sit well with him at all.

So...his plan.

Since he knew Casey had an early shift at the Buy More he couldn't get out of, Chuck took the chance to drive back down to Oubliette. He hadn't even thought about calling ahead, which he realized he should've as he pulled up.

Still, he waltzed into the lobby and was met by the same receptionist as yesterday.

"Is, uh, Octavia available?" he asked. Since he hadn't flashed on her at all the day before, he figured she was the safest option.

"For a session?" she asked.

"Oh, no!" Chuck knew he was probably turning as red as the walls. "Just to talk. Questions about...you know."

The receptionist asked him to take a seat while she got in touch with Lady Octavia. A moment later, she appeared from inside the facility.

"Charles, it's good to see you," she said. "I was hoping to hear from you again."

"Really?" Chuck asked.

She nodded. "Come, we can talk in my office."

Octavia's "office" was more like the front parlor in an Wild West style brothel, with lush velvet furniture and smoky ambient lighting. He tried to settle into the plushy upholstery of the chair Octavia indicated.

"Why did you hope to hear from me again?" Chuck asked.

"I could tell you were uncertain yesterday," she said. "It's important you feel comfortable if you and John are going to embark on this kind of relationship."

Her statement stuck Chuck as hilarious, given that he and Casey didn't have any kind of relationship at all. "Yeah," was all he said, still shifting nervously in his seat.

"I take it this wasn't your idea?"

"Not really."

"John's?"

"A...friend's," he lied. "She thought it might be good for us to try it out."

"Can I be frank with you, Charles?" Octavia asked.

"Yeah, of course," he told her. "Go ahead."

"I think experimentation can add a great deal to a relationship," she told him. "But everyone involved has to want it."

"I think I just need more information," Chuck said. "I just don't get how people think pain and humiliation and all that stuff is...you know..."

"Erotic?" she finished.

He nodded.

"Everything we do here boils down to a matter of control," Octavia said after a moment. "Relinquishing control, gaining control, but doing so in a completely safe environment. That's the key. People think all the power is in the ability to take control, but really, here, it's the submissive who has given up all control but who has all the power because the dominant, the one in control, only has that control because the sub lets him. Do you see?"

"Can't say I do," Chuck admitted.

She didn't seem bothered by that at all. "Do me a favor. Close your eyes."

Chuck was palpably suspicious of the request and it showed in his expression, which made Octavia laugh. "It's harmless, I assure you."

Chuck closed his eyes.

"I want you to think about John," she said. "Think about your relationship with him, how it started, where it's at now. You care about each other, right?"

"Right," Chuck said, although it wasn't the whole truth. He knew he felt..something...for Casey that was as weird and unfathomable to him as this whole dom/sub thing that Octavia was trying to explain. How Casey felt about him -- an even bigger mystery.

"Do you trust him?"

"Yes." Chuck realized it was true, too. He did trust Casey.

"Completely?"

"Yes."

"With your very life?" Her voice was soft, nearer his ear than he expected.

"Oh, yeah."

"All right," Octavia said. "Think of what that means. You trust him with the very essence of your life, to protect that, to honor that essence. That's an important connection. Now imagine having that much trust for someone who is there to give you whatever pleasure you want. You're at his mercy, yes, but that trust means you know that he's going to obey your every unconscious cue -- the way your breathe speeds or slows, the way your muscles twitch, the tiny movements you make. He's tuned to react to all of those and you know he will. Think of the pleasure that can come from being with someone you trust that way."

Chuck's eyes were still closed, but his breath was starting to get a little shallow. He hated to admit it but Octavia was painting an image with her words that he could understand way better than he wanted to.

"Now, go further. Imagine being trapped in it, a prisoner to everything this person can do to you, but knowing that he will only bestow exquisite ecstasy." She paused. "Imagine what it would be like to be at John's mercy in this way, the center of his concentration, his knowledge, his skill, using everything he is to bring you to the brink over and over…and you can't do anything but enjoy it."

Chuck's eyes flew open and he gaped at Octavia.

She laughed. "That's just my own interpretation, of course. But I think I've made my point, don't you?"

"Yeah," he said shakily.

"This just isn't for everyone," she told him. "If it's not for you, that's fine. But if it is, don't be afraid of it either."

Chuck still wasn't firing on all cylinders, mostly because Octavia's little mental exercise had hit home. The entire time she'd been talking, it had been Casey he'd been thinking about -- and he was still shocked by how easily it had been to cast Casey in those sexual imaginings. And the idea of sexual things with Casey had definitively not turned him off.

The opposite in fact.

Chuck decided he was having some kind of mental breakdown brought on by the mission. Why else would he be so curious about the ends and outs of BDSM? Why else would he suddenly start thinking of Casey in a remotely sexual way, let alone have kinky pornographic fantasies about him while he listened to a dominatrix espouse the glories of bondage and submission?

As much as he wanted to blame it on some kind of new insanity, though, there had been signs before that mission. Oh, yes, there had been and he'd tried to ignore them. But they were still there in his head and they flashed, Intersect-like, through his mind. Small moments when his eyes had lingered, or Casey's scant praise had warmed in ways even Sarah's didn't; the way he depended on Casey, looked forward to working with him, despite everything.

He even recalled when they'd been infected by the truth serum, and the best he had come up with for Sarah was 'pretty' while he had compared Casey's jaw to a work of art.

Oh, yeah, there were signs going _way_ back.

As Octavia led him through the labyrinthe halls of the dungeon, Chuck was so busy trying to figure out the mess in his head that he almost didn't pay attention to a very tall woman who walked by them. She was in shiny black leather, a corset, thigh-highs -- all the things comic books had told him to expect in a dominatrix -- and her inky-black hair was teased high.

When she paused to look back at them over her shoulder, he caught a good look at her face and suddenly he was flashing. He dimly heard the conversation between Octavia and the newcomer, who Octavia addressed as "Mistress Orlanda."

"Are you all right, Charles?" Octavia asked him, concerned.

"Yeah, fine," he said, shaky for a new reason. "I just...have a lot on my mind."

Chuck was sure he broke some land speed records making for his car, and then a few more as he headed toward home. He fished his cell out of his pocket and hit the speed dial to call Casey as he drove, and was exceedingly frustrated when he didn't get an answer. Next he called Sarah, but she didn't answer either.

He was about to try Casey again but, by then he'd reached the apartment and he hurried over to Casey's door.

Casey opened on the second knock, a thunderous look on his face. "Where the hell have you been, Bartowski?" he asked, grabbing him by the shirt collar and hauling him inside the apartment before slamming the door.

"Casey, Casey, Casey..." he stammered out. "I know who's behind the espionage at Oubliette."

"You do?" Casey asked. "And how did you figure it out all on your own?"

"Not important right now," he said. "What's important is that I know who it is! And I think I know how!"

Casey still had hold on him and he shook him a little. "Fine! Who?"

"Her name is Carlotta Jimenez," Chuck said, explaining what he'd learned from his flash. "She's been selling secrets on the black market for years."

"Okay." Casey let him go and started typing away from an nearby computer, probably pulling up information or something. Since the agent seemed engrossed, Chuck let out a breath of relief which was the wrong thing to do. "Don't think I'm finished with you," he warned him.

Chuck flinched.

A minute later Casey was done with whatever he'd been doing and was back in Chuck's face, menacingly moving closer. "Okay, now spill. What made you flash that didn't yesterday?"

Chuck thought about lying for a minute, but figured it was futile -- Casey could probably smell a lie on him from a mile away. "I went back there to talk to Octavia, please don't kill me, I thought it was a good idea at the time!"

"Are you absolutely out of your mind, Bartowski?" Casey snarled. Chuck felt his back hit the wall before he realized he’d been backing up. Not that it helped since Casey just kept crowding him. "Did we not explain to you the risks in any of us going in alone?"

"I know, I know, I know!" Chuck said. "But, look, I figured it out! Can't we just forget about it?"

"We're not just going to be able to forget it when you get yourself killed -- or worse, let the Intersect fall into the wrong hands."

Chuck knew Casey had a point, but that didn't stop the stab of resentment he felt at the agent's words. "Okay, consider me probably chastised, can I get on to telling you the other stuff?"

Casey's eyes stayed locked with Chuck's for a beat longer before he stepped back. "What else?"

"There was something in the files about, about suggestion programming, like hypnosis or something."

Casey nodded, almost to himself, going back to his computer screen. "There was something on here, before…yes, found it." Casey sneered at the screen. "Ah, yes, Carlotta. Here it is."

"Octavia called her Mistress Orlanda," he added.

"Did you tell Walker?"

"She wasn't answering her phone."

Casey grabbed his cell phone and called Sarah, who was apparently answering when Casey called. Chuck listened as Casey filled her in on what Chuck had told him and what he'd found in his dossiers from who-knows-where.

"You're there now?" Casey asked and Chuck tuned back in. "Where's Mistress Orlanda?" Another pause. Casey glanced at Chuck. "Okay, we'll be on the lookout. Huh uh."

"Lookout for what?" Chuck asked once Casey had ended the call.

"For Walker's signal," he said. "Mistress Orlanda is out on a 'special call' tonight, so she's going to get us a way in when the coast is clear so we can search Orlanda's suite. See if we can find her client list or something that'll let us figure out if she's got other secrets to sell."

"Ok…ay."

"Out of here," Casey ordered. "I've got to get some things in order. Meet me back here in an hour."

Chuck nodded even as Casey pushed him out the door.

**

Later that night, Chuck found himself sitting in the car with Casey, waiting for Sarah's signal that it was clear for them to enter and search Mistress Orlanda's suites at Oubliette.

"I am sorry," Chuck said when the unbearable silence between them got to be too much. "I was just trying to help."

"I don't want to talk about it," Casey told him, watching the building through binoculars. "It'll just piss me off again."

"Yes, because you've moved on so well," Chuck muttered, sinking a little in his seat.

Casey glared at him. "Your stupidity keeps endangering my mission and, yes, I have a problem with that."

"Hey, your mission is my life," Chuck argued. "I don't really mean to endanger it more than I have to."

"No, my job is to protect the asset," he said. "And that's the Intersect." It was Chuck's turn to glare, and he opened his mouth to protest. His eyes caught Casey's, however, and something in their depths -- something that looked like actual emotion -- kept Chuck quiet. Casey continued. "However…I'd rather be able to do that without one day finding your brains splattered across the pavement somewhere."

"That's…nice, Casey," Chuck said. "Nauseatingly graphic, but nice."

Casey just sorta grunted in response.

On one hand Chuck didn't necessarily think Casey's declaration meant much, at least not to the agent, but Chuck couldn't help the warm glow it gave him. Casey…didn't want him dead. That was more than he'd known before.

After that, the silence was much more comfortable and they sat there until Sarah poked her head out of one of the side doors and motioned to them with one leather-glove-clad hand. When the three of them huddled into the small alcove just inside the door, Chuck couldn't help the appreciative look he gave Sarah in her leather miniskirt and bustier.

She rolled her eyes at him before turning to Casey. "Orlanda's rooms are the third door on the left, down the southwest hall, after you go up the staircase at the end of this hall. There shouldn't be anyone in your way right now."

"Got it," Casey said. Sarah nodded to them and gave Chuck's arm a quick squeeze before she hurried off down the red-lit corridor.

"Come on, kid," Casey said, grabbing Chuck by shirt again. "Let's go."

They followed Sarah's directions until they reached Orlanda's suites, announced by the plaque much like the one Chuck had seen outside of Octavia's "office" earlier that day. It took Casey about a minute to pick the lock, but soon they were inside, flashlights skimming over its contents.

Where Octavia's room had looked like something out of an old western, Orlanda's looked like something about of a medieval piece set, all iron and exposed wood beams. There were shelves lining several of the walls, stuffed with books and fetish paraphernalia, and the huge dark wood desk was similarly cluttered, sporting among the books and papers a telephone, computer and an gaudy sculpture of an angel, done out of some kind of black stone.

"I'll check the computer," Casey said, moving around the desk. "You watch out for company."

Chuck nodded and stood near the cracked-open door, straining to listen for anyone approaching. All he heard was the sound of his own breathing, and Casey's fingers on the computer keyboard. With his eyes now adjusted to the dimness of the room, Chuck could make some of items lining the shelves, interspersed with her books. When his eyes landed on a black lacquer box, he flashed on it, photographs of Carlotta's last known whereabouts…and a rectangular-shaped void that fit the black box's dimension.

"Casey!" Chuck whispered. "I don't think they're on the computer. I think she keeps whatever in that box."

Casey crossed to examine it, turning it upside down. "Any idea how to open it?"

Chuck tiptoed over, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Casey as they contemplated the box. It was black metal, but there didn't seem to be any real way to open that he could tell. Chuck picked it up and turned it over, then noticed a small groove on the bottom. Just as the word 'puzzle box' crossed his mind, he heard a faint noise behind them. Casey heard it too and spun around, raising his weapon.

If he hadn't been scared out of his mind, Chuck might've appreciated Carlotta's quick reaction because she somehow managed to de-arm Casey with a flick of her leather whip. But Chuck didn't have the time to be impressed because Carlotta was joined by a mean-looking thug, and then next thing he knew, something stinging hit him in the arm.

"Damn tranquil…" Casey didn't get to finish his sentence before both he and Chuck were down.

**

The next time Chuck opened his eyes, he wanted to close them again.

 _I will not freak out._

But even his usual mantra wasn't going to save him as he took in his dismal surroundings. They were in one of the play rooms -- he recognized that, at least -- but it wasn't one he'd seen on the tour with Octavia. And, like Orlanda's suites, it took the "dungeon" name quite literally, with stone walls and dingy iron accessories which included something that could only be called a rack, several sets of shackles pegged into the wall, and an actual cage. Chuck was glad he hadn't woke up in _that_ , at least.

To his right, he could make out Casey who was suspended just off the ground, his wrists in heavy cuffs and his toes just barely on the ground. He was bleeding, which led Chuck to believe he hadn't been as down for the count as he had been from the tranquilizers.

And Chuck himself…he was bound to some kind of steel chair that held him in place with locking steel collars at his neck, wrists and ankles.

 _I am so going to freak out._

"Casey…" The tightness of the collar made it more a breath than a whisper.

"Chuck," Casey rasped out.

"Any chance you know some really awesome way to bust us out of this?" Chuck asked.

"I wish," Casey said, a touch of grim humor in his voice. "You bound up pretty tight?"

"Yeah." Chuck flexed against his bounds one more time. "Steel's…pretty strong."

Casey didn't have a chance to respond because a door opened and Carlotta appeared with her thug. She was dressed much like she had been earlier that day, with spiked heels and teased hair that made her look at least six feet six. She had added gloves to her outfit somewhere along the way.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Carlotta -- Orlanda, whatever -- said, her words heavily accented. "I hope you have come ready for some…fun and games."

Chuck stayed silent. Casey glared.

"First," she said, as she crossed to a table which was covered in those whips, chains and paddles that gave Chuck the creeps. "I need to know who you are working for. FBI, CIA, Interpol, MI6...so many choices."

"But I need to get warmed up some for this." She picked up a mean-looking chain metal flogger, and then glared over at Casey. "And I think I owe you something for that hook you landed earlier."

As she stepped closer, Chuck noticed the beginning of a bruise high on her cheekbone, then saw Chuck flash his smug cross between a grin and sneer at her. "I could've done much worse."

"I'm sure you could," she acknowledged. "But now it's my turn." She tilted her head and looked at her thug. "Strip him," she ordered. "It hurts worse that way."

Chuck was beginning to wonder if he was going to be able to keep his cool. He'd been in several very scary situations since he'd gotten the Intersect downloaded in his head, but Carlotta and her dungeon of happy-fun-torture tools was a whole new level of terrifying, especially since he had a ringside seat as she began to strike Casey as hard as she could with the metal cat o' nine.

The sound of it hitting Casey's bare back was sickening, and Chuck flinched even when Casey didn't. Chuck watched the muscles in Carlotta's arm work as it delivered another blow, and knew that she had enough strength in her to make it hurt like hell.

Casey's only real reaction was the clench of his jaw and the flutter of his eyelids, but he never closed them.

Carlotta only landed a few blows, but there was still blood on the chains when she lowered the flogger. "Now," she purred, coming around to face Casey. "Who do you work for?"

He remained silent.

She raised an eyebrow, as her hand slowly inched up, raising the flogger once again. "Well, if you want to be uncooperative.."

Chuck didn't want to see a repeat of the last few minutes and he searched his brain for something to say. "I thought you were, like, this totally way-too-clever hypnotist," he finally blurted out. "I thought you could extract information without leaving any trace."

"Oh, I can," she said, turning from Casey to Chuck. Thankfully, she lowered the flogger. "But it's only necessary when I'm trying to remain undetected. Since I'm just going to kill both of you once I'm done, I can use any means at hand to extract information." She glanced lovingly over the dungeon room. "And there's so many means at hand here."

Chuck's eyes darted to Casey's, searching for reassurance he doubted he would find. But Casey looked surprisingly calm considering the situation, and that was enough to soothe Chuck a little, even if his heart was still beating wildly in his chest.

Carlotta noticed the interplay as well.

"I think maybe I am making this more difficult than it should, no?" She set the bloody flogger back on the table. "I think your friend here might be looser with his lips, yes?" Her eyes landed on Chuck, her mouth twisted into a decidedly evil smile.

Chuck was having trouble breathing around the steel encircling his throat.

"Maybe you deserve a little attention, too, hmm?" she asked Chuck.

"You'd be wasting your time." Casey's voice was even hoarser-sounding than it had been before. "He doesn't know anything."

Carlotta's laugh was as evil as her smile. "And I should believe you, my friend?"

"He doesn't know anything," Casey repeated, glaring.

"I think you underestimate him," Carlotta said, stepping closer to Chuck. "I bet you know many things, don't you? I'm sure you could at least tell me who you and your partner work for. Yes?"

"I…um…."

"I bet it is for someone _importante_ like the CIA, maybe," she continued, running a gloved-clad finger down the slope of his nose. "Not Interpol or MI6, they are notoriously slow…"

"I really don't know anything," Chuck told her. "Really, really."

"Not true," she reminded him. "You knew about my usual methods. There is no telling what else might be locked away in that head of yours. We will see."

Chuck doubted she had any idea how right she was, but he didn't doubt her threat to torture him. He tried to steel himself for the sting of metal flogger but she did not reach for it. Instead, she grabbed a long rod that Chuck's brain informed him was an electric cattle prod.

He knew his panic and fear were plainly etched on his face, but Chuck couldn't keep them down as he watched her move closer and closer with the prod in hand. It was like it was in slow motion: he watched her discharge it once in the air and heard the electricity's crackle, heard the clack of her spiked heels on the stone floor, heard the frantic rattle of chains that meant Casey was fighting his bonds. But his eyes remained riveted on her hand and the prod as it came closer…and…closer…

"Now, tell me: who do you work for?"

Even if Chuck had wanted to answer, he wouldn't have had the chance because she slammed the prod against his shoulder and discharged it, sending fire through his veins. Chuck had never experienced anything like it and it took everything he had not to scream out as his muscles revolted against the onslaught. He bucked and strained against the cuffs holding him in place, desperately trying to escape the pain.

Somewhere above the violent noise of his pain, Chuck thought he heard yelling, but it wasn't until it came to a blessed end that he could make out it was Casey's voice.

"What did you say?" Carlotta asked him.

"I said…" Casey's voice was a dark growl. "It's none of them above."

"Meaning?"

"We don't work for the CIA, Interpol or MI6."

"Well at least we're making progress," she said. "Maybe after I shock your friend again, you'll give me a real answer."

"Don't you dare."

The knock on the door startled everyone, even Chuck who was still trying to recover from the mind-numbing experience of the prod. Carlotta stuck its end warningly against his throat and shook her head at Casey, signaling him to be silent.

"Orlanda?" The muffled voice belonged to Octavia. "Are you in there?"

Carlotta shot them both a warning look before she moved toward the door, only opening it an inch. "Yes, it is, Octavia. I am in a session."

"I thought you were handling a special case offsite tonight?" Octavia asked.

"My plans changed," she told her. "Good night, Octavia."

"Good night…" Octavia's voice was cut off as Carlotta slammed the door in place.

She breathed a sigh before glancing back between Casey and Chuck. "Now, my friends, where were we?" Carlotta picked up the prod from where she had lain it on the table. "Ah, yes, I remember. You were going to give me a straight answer or else I was going to do this to your friend again."

"No!"

Even knowing what to expect didn't help Chuck prepare for the next wave of excruciating pain that Carlotta's prod inflicted. But, miraculously, it only lasted an instant before there was a deafening explosion of sound and commotion.

"Drop it, Carlotta!" a familiar female voice ordered.

When Chuck could finally focus on what was going on around him, there was chaos. Casey had somehow managed to take out the thug, even with his hands shackled, leaving Carlotta's accomplice lying unconscious and bleeding on the floor. Sarah was standing there in her little leather number, gun flashing as she held it on Carlotta, but what surprised him was who was actually handcuffing her.

"Octavia?" It was Casey who asked the question on Chuck's mind.

She offered him a quick smile as she hauled the resisting Carlotta toward the flung-open door. "Lydia, actually," she said. "Lydia Keller."

"And you're with?"

"Interpol," she told him. "I'd show you my credentials, but…"

"Later."

Octavia -- Lydia -- nodded, then pushed Carlotta through the door before her, cursing colorfully in Spanish the whole way. Sarah lowered her weapon, seemingly torn between helping the bleeding NSA agent or the shaking nerd-turned-reluctant-spy.

"Walker," Casey barked. "Get over here and undo me."

Sarah scrambled to obey. "Are you all right?" she asked, probably eyeing his back as she worked the cuffs open. Chuck couldn't quite see them without turning his head and he hurt too much for that.

"Fine," Casey told her.

"And Chuck?" she asked in a whisper.

"He'll be fine," Casey said, though Chuck detected a tremor that maybe Casey didn't believe it. "Don't worry, I'll get Bartowski. You go make sure that Interpol skirt is who she says she is and she doesn't run off with our suspect."

"Yeah, sure." Sarah gave Chuck a sympathetic look as she darted past him on her way out.

A moment later Chuck felt someone at his side, someone he knew had to be Casey. Then he felt gentle hands opening the locked cuffs on one wrist, then the other.

"Casey?"

"What?"

"I feel…like crap."

There was a raspy noise that almost counted as a chuckle. "I don't doubt it."

Chuck opened his eyes to see Casey kneeling in front of him, working to open the cuffs around his ankles. From his vantage point, mostly he saw a bent, dark head and bare shoulders, muscles flexing with his movement. He sighed and sat back, too exhausted to think of moving again.

"That…sucked."

"You think it hurts now?" Casey asked. "Wait until tomorrow. That's when it really gets bad."

Chuck would've groaned if he'd had the energy.

When he felt fingers on his throat, opening the last restraint, Chuck opened his eyes again, catching Casey's. "Hey, thanks."

"For what?

"For trying to stop her."

Casey's fingers lingered near his throat as the collar finally gave way. "Didn't do much good."

Chuck tried to smile, even though it felt more like a grimace. "It was better than splattered brains, though, right?"

Casey shook his head. "You're a piece of work, kid. You know that?" Casey straightened and smoothed his hands over Chuck's shoulders, then around his arms. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

"You expect me to walk?" Chuck whined. The prospect was not thrilling.

"I'll help you." Casey gently tugged on him. "Come on, Bartowski. Man up."

Chuck let himself be pulled into an upright position despite his watery limbs, but he didn't fight his need to lean heavily on Casey as they slowly shuffled toward the door.

And if Casey minded…he didn't say a word.

**

The cover story for his hospital visit was a freak electrical accident at the Buy More. Chuck was grateful for Sarah and the CIA's handiwork, too, because it was difficult to lie about medical conditions to his family when it consisted of two doctors.

"So I want some news," he told Sarah as she took a seat at his bedside. The doctor said they were going to keep him overnight, just in case -- though Chuck thought Ellie's sisterly concern had a lot to do with that decision. "What happened after I left?"

"You were right about the box," Sarah told him. "Once we found out how to open it, we had everything, including her current lists of secrets for sale. There was also a paper trail going back several years."

"Good," he said. "Job well done, right?"

Sarah nodded.

"So how did you and Octavia, uh, I mean, Agent Keller know to come to our rescue?"

"I got worried when I was your vehicle was still outside when I was leaving," Sarah said. "So I grabbed my gun and came back inside. I had just checked Carlotta's suites and hadn't found anything when I ran into Agent Keller who already had her weapon out. It was a tense moment, but we sorted out we were both the good guys and she led me back to where you guys were."

"I was definitely glad to see you," Chuck told her. "I mean, really _really_ glad."

Sarah touched his arm, a sign of affection. "I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner."

"Not your fault," he told her. "Don't worry about it."

She gave him one of those tremulous smiles that meant she was feeling particularly fond of him at the moment.

"I hope I'm not interrupting?"

They both glanced toward the door to see Agent Keller standing there, looking remarkably unlike the woman they'd meet a few days before. Instead of long and burgundy-red, her hair was a short strawberry blond, and her knee-length navy skirt and starched white shirt were a far cry from the leather and lace she'd worn as Octavia.

"Agent Keller," Sarah said, standing. "We were just talking about you."

"I bet." The smile was familiar, though, warm and inviting.

Chuck smiled back.

Keller nodded to her side. "I found this on my way here. I think it might belong to you?"

Chuck and Sarah watched as Casey reluctantly came into view, shooting daggers at Keller.

Chuck couldn't stop his pulse from speeding up at the sight of him there, looking relatively unscathed. He just hoped it didn’t pick up on his heart monitor. He struggled to sit up in the bed. "Casey."

"I thought you left?" Sarah asked.

Casey dragged his eyes away from Chuck long enough to glance at Sarah. "I came back."

"What about your…" Chuck waved a hand at him, not wanting to list off the injuries Casey had received at Carlotta's hands. "…back?"

"The doctors patched me up," he said, stepping into the room at Keller's insistence. "I've had worse."

Keller followed suit and let the door swing shut behind her. "He was skulking in the hallway," she explained.

He glared at her. "Did you want something in particular, Agent Keller?"

She smiled at Chuck. "I wanted to check on Agent Carmichael," she said. "How are you feeling Charles?"

"Like I've been zapped a few times with a cattle prod," he quipped. "But the doctors say I'm fine."

Keller looked from Chuck to Sarah to Casey and back again. Finally, her eyes returned to Sarah. "Would it be possible for me to speak with Agent Carmichael alone?" she asked.

Sarah and Casey exchanged looks. There was some kind of silent dialogue before Sarah answered. "We'll be waiting just outside," she said, pulling Casey along as she headed for the door.

Once they were gone, Keller sat down next to Chuck in the chair Sarah had vacated. "I figured you would have some questions," she said.

"Oh, I have a whole bunch," he said. He tamped down on the laughter because he knew it was hurt his aching muscles. "Like how did an Interpol agent end up posing as a dominatrix?"

"The same way a NSA agent ended up posing as a client, I assume," she said. "Different field offices of Interpol have been after Carlotta for a while now. Espionage is only part of her repertoire. She's wanted for several murders in Spain, as well as France and Germany. We got a tip that this "Orlanda" might be her, so I went in undercover."

"You definitely had me fooled," he told her. "You were very convincing."

"Well…let's just say there was a reason I pulled the assignment," she told him conspiratorially. "Don't sell yourself short, though. You and Agent Casey had me fooled as well, especially when you came in for that second visit."

Chuck knew he flushed at the reminder. "Yeah, well…"

She smiled understandingly, and Chuck knew he hadn't been that great an actor, especially on his return trip. Octavia -- and Agent Keller -- had been able to figure out exactly where his mind had been.

He was trying to figure out something slick to say to her when the door opened and Casey stuck his head inside. "I think you've had long enough, Agent Keller," he told her bluntly. "Time's up."

"Of course." She stood and straightened her skirt. "It was nice working with you, Agent Carmichael."

"Same here, Agent Keller," he said.

She shot an amused glance back at Casey who was glowering at her. She leaned in a little, lips brushing against Chuck's cheek. "It's no wonder you trust him so completely," she whispered before she pulled away. "I wish you all the best," she said more loudly.

Chuck was still a little dazed, both by her goodbye kiss and her words. "You too."

Keller smiled at Casey as she slid out of the room. "Agent Casey," she nodded in lieu of goodbye. "Take care of him, will you?"

Casey didn't bother answering.

"Where did Sarah go?" Chuck asked once they were alone.

"She left," Casey said. "She needed some rest."

"Oh, yeah." Chuck paused. "So I guess you're heading out now, too?"

"One of us has to play babysitter," Casey said, lowering himself into the chair next to him. "It's my turn."

"Shouldn't you be at home recuperating?"

"I took a nap earlier," he said. "I'll be fine."

"Okay." Chuck settled against his pillows, watching Casey do the same in the chair. He could tell by the minute shifts that telegraphed his discomfort the chair wasn't good against his battered back. "Are you sure you're…?"

"Bartowski, shut up and go to sleep," Casey told him.

"Okay, geez." Once he closed his eyes, the pain medication started to work its magic and he felt himself relax into the drowsiness it caused.

But just before he drifted off completely, he thought he felt a touch on his hand, and Casey's voice, pitched low.

"Moron."

It was said with affection, and the smile it caused followed Chuck into sleep.

  
 **The End.**


End file.
